


Part Of You

by Shinocchi



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Bittersweet, Character Development, Character Study, Dark Past, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, Illustrations, M/M, Making Love, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Reminiscing, Riding, Sappy, Sharing Body Heat, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: Two months after they'd escaped from Toshima, Akira and Keisuke found themselves having to adapt to not only their new environment, but also to each other.[Post-Canon]





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ten years too late _(:3/L  
> Let also this story be known to be the story that'd broken by DMMd story list. Keisuke & Akira had always been my OTP ever since I first played the game, I hope they still accept my small contribution to them, despite it being super late :')
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Sometimes everything that had ever happened in Toshima still felt like a dream to him. He’d wake up in the morning, blink at the morning ray pouring blandly into the room, and feel a weird sense of surrealism within him that he knew was the hangover of a reality he never considered it to be true. He’d never believe that peace would be something he’d be associated with, that he’d be able to sleep in bed so comfortable like this, greeting morning like it’s the most natural thing, and waking up by the side of the one person whom he deemed to be part of him.

He turned to his side, wanting to nourish himself in this pool of warmth that was so enslaving, so gratifying, and yet all so invigorating. He never thought he’d ever want someone by his side. But he thought, perhaps it was because of the very fact that he’d never experienced warmth before that had made him feel such. Because now that he’d come to have an idea of how _amazing_ warmth could feel like, he wouldn’t know if he could ever return to waking up to a bleak bed and perished town all over again.

He felt movements by his side, blinking once again to find Keisuke still sleeping, his torso naked, his face bearing an expression that looked as if he was having a good dream. Akira lifted an inherent smile. At least he’s not having any nightmare now. He remembered days when Keisuke would jolt from his sleep, sweating profusely as he struggled to breathe, his eyes blank, his body quivering. And all Akira would do was stare, until when Keisuke calmed down, turning around to look at him with a smile that he returned it with one of his own. Every time after his nightmare, Akira would always find him hugging him near-at-hand, the space between them minimal, and all that they could feel from each other was their breathing, their body temperature, and scents that only belonged to one another.

That was all.

He’d told Keisuke that he needed no consolation. Because he _knew_ that Keisuke would be able to overcome everything that would come to haunt him. He _had_ to overcome it -- and it was the greatest bet Akira had placed on him.

He hoisted himself up, sloping closer towards Keisuke’s sleeping face, blanket draping off his body. Never had he been able to peer at Keisuke’s face in such proximity -- was he always this good-looking? Were his cheekbones always this high? Were his eyelashes always this long? He had many questions; questions after questions that came swarming towards him, questions he never knew existed. He never expected them to mean so much to him, but he’d never known that his feelings towards Keisuke existed after all -- until when Keisuke was no longer by his side.

The moment of truth still terrified him. He never wanted to revisit it again.

He never wanted time to make him regret anything before he had the chance to atone for it.

Keisuke’s eyelashes fluttered at the same time he was about to lean closer, immediately pulling him back. He blinked -- once, twice -- and finally, smiling at Akira the moment his partner came into clear view.

“Good morning.”

Sometimes he wondered if he was living in a dream. Simple mornings like this was too good to be true. Simple greetings like this was once a dream too far for him to reach. And yet, he was here, _they_ were here, greeting yet another bloodless morning, greeting each other like it was the most natural thing to do.

They were living in their own dream.

Akira moved out of bed first. He was still not used to everything that was happening to him now. ‘Good morning’, such a simple gesture he needed to return, but yet, it took every ounce of his energy just to return a quiet ‘Morning’ before he averted gaze with Keisuke and strode towards the bathroom, his own heartbeats lusty in his ears.

Two months since they were cuffed by this truce, two months since they could wake up in good serenity. Two months could make the biggest difference in the world. He almost choked on his toothpaste when he felt a firm hug from behind, a head buried in between the crook of his neck, followed closely by a sigh.

“Akira’s been too cold this morning,” Keisuke grumbled, hot breath hitting his skin as Akira struggled himself out of the warm embrace.

Was he cold, though? Wasn’t he always like this?

Was anything supposed to change after they changed their… relationship?

He had absolutely no clue regarding this whole relationship matter. Were they in a relationship already? Since when? How would he know? Did Keisuke say anything that implied so? Did _he_ say anything that had implied so?

How would he know if he was in love? How would he know if Keisuke was in love?

He nimbly brushed his teeth, splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up and raising his head just to see Keisuke smiling at him.

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit throaty, still barely awoke from the morning haze.

“Nothing,” Keisuke grinned. “Just wondering if Akira has always been this clumsy in the morning?”

“‘Clumsy?’” Akira responded. He snagged a towel, wiping water off his face, then walked out of the bathroom, with Keisuke tailing behind him.

“Like… defenceless.”

He halted his steps. Was he _always_ this defenceless in the morning, though? He knew that he was a light sleeper -- which could be a huge contribution to the constant heaviness in his head -- but he was still pretty much alert with his surrounding.

… come to think of it, he wasn’t really paying attention when Keisuke was around earlier. As if he’d deemed him as part of him, as someone who would do no harm to him, as someone he could completely trust.

“Not really,” he replied matter-of-factly, turning away, no longer interested to dwell further in the conversation.

Two months of staying with Keisuke had made him realize how much he never knew about his childhood friend, how much he never knew about himself, and how much he never knew about human interactions in general. He’d succumbed to the thought that no one person would be able to understand another person completely: they are them, he’s him anyway. Everyone is their own person and that’s also why he didn’t bother exploiting too much of the way other people do things, even when it’s something he couldn’t understand.

But now, as he watched Keisuke gobbled up the simple French Toast he made for their breakfast, he wondered how it’d feel to be able to understand him completely, how it’d feel to be able to know what he was thinking, what he wanted, why he did things in certain ways.

Would he be able to understand the significance of being lovers then? Would he be able to be a _better_ partner for Keisuke then?

“Ah, your scarf.”

He was at the door, putting shoes on, when Keisuke gasped and ran back into the house, coming back shortly with a pile of what seemed to be a thick wool of light-brown coloured scarf in his hands.

“You’ll catch a cold if you walk out to this weather without something to keep you warm,” Keisuke beamed. He wrapped the cloth around Akira’s neck, then giving Akira a soft pat on the head before he leaned in, kissing him on the forehead.

Is this what lovers usually do? he wondered, the soft peck on his cheek that came after spreading warmth in the bottom of his pit. Sharing body intimacy? Sharing warmth? Taking care of each other?

Putting others before themselves?

Totally driven by his own thoughts, he looked up, meeting Keisuke’s gaze and leaned towards him, brushing their lips together, just slowly, just gingerly, before he saw the shock in Keisuke’s face.

“A-Akira?”

He looked away, heat swelling on his cheeks. He’d been too absorbed with his own thoughts. Keisuke might take his abruptness as a gesture done out of his own conscious but Akira knew that it wasn’t so. He was carried away -- by the truth of how they _were_ , indeed, a pair of lovers now.

The walk towards their workspace was always a quiet one. When they first started this routine, Keisuke would always follow him from behind, soundlessly, like he always did when they were still in CFC, when they were still in the orphanage. But across time, Akira had come to slow his steps, and Keisuke would throttle faster, coming to walk by his side. On some days, they’d simply walk down the road, exchanging sparse spontaneous talk to fill in the silence. And on some, Akira would find Keisuke’s fingers brushing against his palm before he found their fingers intertwining, Keisuke’s palm warm against his.

“It’s cold today, isn’t it?” Keisuke strummed, grasping Akira’s hand firmer.

Akira nodded. The naked winter tree lined the avenue, snow sprinkled down the grey, clouded sky, landing on the ground with elegance. Frozen puddles fractured under their boots as they walked, their limbs numb, their body movement pleading for a hint of heat.

“Winter always reminds me of Akira,” Keisuke said, pulling thoughts out of his mind. “Cold… but pure.”

Akira frowned. He _knew_ he was dismissive, but to be compared with something as cold as winter wasn’t something he would prefer. In the next moment, words squandered out of his mouth against his own will, catching himself off guard.

“Keisuke feels like a summer person to me,” he rambled, voice muffled from beneath the thick material of the scarf.

“Huh? Summer?” Keisuke gawked, looking as surprised as Akira have thought. “Why?’

Why, though? he considered. It was an impression he had, he couldn’t quite explain it himself. Keisuke always felt warm. When he touched him, he felt as if he could melt every parts of the ice in him, bringing out the truest part of him and ultimately having him to confess thoughts that he never knew existed. He didn’t know how a person could make him feel as such.

Perhaps because it was _Keisuke_ that he was able to feel this way.

He sped up his steps without giving Keisuke an answer. Keisuke seemed like he was about to say something but he quickly swallowed his words upon noticing the expression Akira was wearing.

Keisuke knew _too much_ about him. He must have known what he was thinking now. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that Keisuke knew everything but yet, he knew nothing.

The shift difference for their day pulled their meeting time apart. While Keisuke handled the heavyweight tasks, Akira focused on the lighter jobs, constantly finding himself sneaking a peek at Keisuke whenever he heard his boyfriend’s voice. Keisuke was always so bright, so desirable; he mixed extremely well with people around him even without the need for him to try too hard.

Akira would never become someone like him. Despite him feeling the change within him ever since they let their mutual thoughts out, he still reserved some of the deepest thoughts within himself, burying questions that could’ve been solved by just asking, and finding himself wondering about the most arduous questions he created for himself. He lunged his thoughts into the work he had in hands, careful not to let another cart of equipments slip before he heard a familiar voice calling his name out from a distance away.

“Akira!”

He tried not to meet the other’s eyes, tried not to make too much of a ruckus from the turmoil of emotions that’d swarmed upon him from the inside. But the strong hug he’d felt right after, almost causing him to topple everything he was carrying, crushed his willpower into dust.

“What’s the matter with you?” Akira hissed. But all Keisuke did was grinning broadly at him then nuzzling their cheeks together.

“I’ll have to stay longer today to finish up some stuff,” he said, voice less spirited than before. “Would you be okay to go back by yourself first?”

Keisuke’s gaze on him was searing, as if he was anticipating something from him.

“Alright,” he replied guilelessly.

And he didn’t notice the letdown expression Keisuke wore on his face before he walked away with the heavy cart of tools, his heart equally so.

 

* * *

 

 

He would never get used to the cold. Immediately stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he walked out of his workspace, bidded a quick farewell to Keisuke and led heavy steps into the street. Sometimes he’d come to realize that he was staring into void if he was to lose his thoughts while he walked, and sometimes, he’d find himself pacing aimlessly, only coming back to himself when he realized he knew nothing of the roads around him and having to take a longer route back home. Today, however, was the latter. He wandered aimlessly along the streets, mind filled with contemplations. It was rare for Keisuke to _not_ by his side and he deemed it a great opportunity to do something different, something extra.

He came to a stop in front of a shop that seemed to be selling exquisite sets of jewelries, eyes set on a pair of rings before he looked away, suddenly conscious of what he was considering. Straightening himself up, he coughed and walked away, feeling heat surging to the tips of his ears. He never knew his own thoughts at most times, and he would never realize it until Keisuke pointed it out to him. He paced faster, feeling all the more flustered upon noticing the absurd thoughts he had just minutes ago then came to stop again in front of a shop selling nothing but winter wears. For warmth, he strode right in, hearing the soft clinking of the bell above his head before he was enveloped by heat that he very much sought for.

“Welcome!” A bright-smiling lady greeted him. With a sheer smile, he glanced around, finding himself staring at rows and rows of scarves, winter coats, boots… everything that could keep one warm.

“Are you looking for something?” the lady asked, a bit too enthusiastic for Akira.

“Just looking around,” he answered, which was perfectly true of its own. He approached one of the shelves, his eyes drifting from one corner to the other, attempting to find one item that would help him make up his mind. Then, at long last, his attention lingered at a neatly folded thick piece of orange-coloured scarf on the topmost part of the shelf.

“Are you interested with that one?” the lady asked again, noticing how distracted he was.

“Ah, yeah,” he said, words spilled without a second thought. “Can I have a look?”

Keisuke always reminded him of… something radiant; blazing… hot…

The lady passed him the item, the coarseness of wool rustling against his palms. He remembered Keisuke’s hands on his skin -- rough, tough -- the sensation of it so vividly clear as if it was engraved on Akira’s very own skin. He was used to harsh treatments, Bl@ster was so, and he definitely was used to aggressive skin-against-skin action. Even so, when he first experienced yet another kind of aggressive skin contact with Keisuke, he felt as if he was experiencing a sort of sentiment that he had never encountered before; a sense of touch that scorched right through his skin, smearing the layer of his sensitive spots with the most rhapsodic kind of pleasure. It was a kind of touch that was brimmed with a mix of ache and desire, of roughness and of gentleness. He caressed the rugged material of the scarf again, feeling it, visualizing how Keisuke would look like cloaked in the luster of this colour.

“Are you buying for a friend?” the lady interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the realm of reality.

Nodding, he smiled, raising the scarf and said, “I’d like to buy this.”

Whatever they earned wasn't much, but enough to help meet their ends. Akira wasn't a big spender himself; he was contented with the simplest thing, he never needed anything more than he deemed he needed. Even when he carried two bags full of grocery back home, he still deemed that all the money spent were for its own good. Keisuke was still not home when he stepped into the space of their shelter. The place was not too big, not too small, just enough to fit the both of them. After they escaped from Toshima, all that was in their thoughts were how to survive, leaving no space for anything else. But as time went by, as they adapted to this solidarity, Akira came to find himself thinking of things that weren’t part of his conscious.

Things like how he could make their life better, how he needed to buckle up, and how he should stop letting Keisuke do absolutely everything for him.

He released a heavy sigh as he placed the bags on the counter. Ingredients, tools in the kitchen; all of them were nothing he was familiar with. What drove him to do this, to be honest? Why did he think it’s necessary to take this step? He started taking the items out, one by one, all the while contemplating his life decisions, all the while feeling out of place, as if his own mind and his own body no longer belonged to him.

It’s Keisuke’s fault, he concluded. Keisuke changed everything.

He smashed one of the eggs into the pan, his action harder than he wanted it to be. With another sigh, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he heard movements from the corridor outside their room.

“Akira, I’m home!”

There was nothing he wanted to do to hide what he was doing anyway. But Keisuke’s blazing gaze alongside his jaw-dropping expression when he saw Akira in the kitchen made him change his mind.

“Akira, what are you…”

Akira looked away, Keisuke’s stare a tad too distressing to endure. He focused on his eggs without giving his grinning boyfriend more attention, and almost tumbled into the stove when Keisuke gave him a sturdy bear hug from behind.

“Are you making dinner?” Keisuke mumbled against his ears, forming goosebumps all over his ear shell.

“You have eaten?” he asked, totally avoiding the question.

Keisuke shook his head, nudging his cheek against Akira’s neck as he sniffed at the pleasant fragrance of cooking eggs. “Thought of eating out with you, but this is much better.”

He wasn’t sure if the heat on his face was all thanks to the warmth from the stove or all thanks to how smitten his boyfriend was with him now.

“Do you need help?” Keisuke asked, finally letting Akira go as he looked around. “What are you trying to make?”

What was the name of the dish again? he wondered to himself. Something… rice.

“Rice with egg,” he said simply, too occupied to be distracted.

“You mean, omelet rice?”

The heat on the tips of his ears was _definitely_ not from the stove.

“Whatever it’s called,” he said, feeling his ego being challenged. “Go and sit outside. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“You sure you don’t need help?” Keisuke flashed a grin, instantly earning himself a glare.

“It’s fine,” Akira said. “Go and rest.”

And he wondered if it was _really_ the right decision to brush Keisuke off, after dropping the third egg on the kitchen floor.

 

He wouldn’t say that he’d done a good job for the first meal he’d ever made for Keisuke. He’d never imagine himself cooking, in a kitchen, for _someone else_. As he set down the two bowls of rice on the table, acutely regretting all the decisions he’d made, all Keisuke did was grinning widely at him, his cutleries all ready in his hands as his eyes gleamed with palpable anticipation. It made Akira feel all the more worse, feeling that he might not be able to give whatever Keisuke was expecting.

“Let’s eat.”

He’d never felt so nervous _eating_ in his entire life. The first mouthful didn’t taste so bad, at least not as bad as he expected it to be. He took a second, finding it easier to swallow, and enduring the urge to meet eyes with Keisuke. For a long time, the clinking sound of metal hitting glass was the only sound filling up the silence between them. And after he was done with his, he looked up, just to see Keisuke staring at him, his cutlery aside, his plate empty.

“H-how was it?” he asked, wary. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer either. But Keisuke seemed like he had been waiting for this moment as he sprung up, tightfisting Akira on the hands.

“It’s the best food I’ve ever tasted in my entire life!” he exclaimed, his grip snuggy.

“You’re exaggerating,” Akira frowned. Keisuke’s gaze was radically heated; he seemed to have more things to say but Akira pulled his hands out of his grasp and stood up.

“I’m not-- oh, let me help you,” Keisuke said hastily, realizing what Akira was about to do.

He let him. Because if he didn’t, he’d probably need to face more of Keisuke over-the-top speech and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

 

* * *

 

 

His hands were drenched in oozing red liquid. Aside from his own heartbeats, his muscles movement seemed to have ceased, his opponent’s eyes, the light gone in a fraction of seconds, the warmth of ages that had been his proof of existence vanished. Bodies lied around him like ghoulish mannequins, one corpse propped, ungainly as a rag doll, against the wall. The nauseating smell of metal and rotting flesh blanketed the air in a choking aroma.

He was screaming from the inside, huge surge of nausea deluging out of his throat. He fell, landing on his knees, clutching his chest, refusing to witness the evidences of the lives he’d taken.

He wanted to _get out_ , out of this haunting memories of the past, of these reminders that he no longer needed. What was expected from him? What could he do to atone from the past he’d brutally committed to? What can he do to lead a normal life once again?

He woke up with a start, breathing heavy, drenched in sweat. It was a wintry moonless night. The sky was dark and low, the air so chilled it hurt to breathe. His body felt dreadfully drained, he felt as if he’d just returned from a long marathon run. And as he turned around to catch a glimpse of Akira, hoping that he hadn’t been waking him up, he hitched a breath.

“Akira…” he called out before he could stop himself.

Akira was wide awake, his gaze locked on the ceiling. He seemed to have noticed that Keisuke was awake as well, even though he wasn’t looking at him.

“Another one?” he asked, voice small.

Keisuke nodded with a small strum. “Sorry for waking you up.”

He heard a click of tongue, then Akira was glaring at him.

“It’s not about that,” Akira raised his voice, just a tad.

“O-oh, yeah, so-- ah, haha…” he laughed weakly at the end of his words.

He kept quiet when Akira inched towards him, said no words when he felt Akira’s hand on his. Akira wasn’t supposed to say anything; it’s the promise they’d made for each other.

But he did.

Even it’s just one word.

“Sleep.”

His heartbeats were back in his ears -- ravenous and strident. Akira was never a person of words. He’d told him that he could tell him anything he wanted. And he wanted to. He really wanted to. Yet, he couldn’t help himself at times like this, when he was obviously losing his pace and when Akira was obviously showing all sense of support. He couldn’t help but wanting to bring Akira into his arms, feel his warmth, his breath, his existence.

Akira was _so close_ to him.

Yet…

“Akira,” he called out, sounding almost like a whisper.

There was only calm breathing by his side, with no response whatsoever. Maybe Akira had already fallen asleep. He shouldn’t be bothering him now. He was the one who’d woke him up after all. He shouldn’t be disturbing Akira any further.

“Spill it.”

Akira’s voice echoed loudly in his ears, breaking the pacifying silence in between them.

“What would you do if I… lose control again?”

It’s a memory they didn’t want to be reminded of. But yet, Akira showed no sense of displease when Keisuke spilled the beans. His nerves strained with every passing second. He swallowed down his throat countless times to sustain himself. And, before he could come back to himself, Akira had shifted _closer_ to him, moving his hand from Keisuke’s to his chest.

“Akira?”

Still without a word, Akira budged, pressing his ear against Keisuke’s chest, completemented by a small sigh.

“Then I’ll make sure that you don’t.”

Akira’s voice was small, but he heard every word he said loud and clear. He mumbled against his heart, giving him an impression as if he’d sent a curse right at it, coating it with warmth so compact that his breath was caught in his throat.

He knew what Akira was capable of -- Akira was his saviour, but he could also be the only person who could kill him at the same time.

That’s how Akira was; Akira was _that_ influential to him.

Raising his hand, he brushed against the soft strands of Akira’s hair, the silky sensation calming him down as he closed his eyes. They didn’t say anything more after that, all that they could hear was each other’s breathing, and all that Keisuke could feel was his own heart, beating against Akira’s face.

Then, Akira moved, looking up, seemingly wanting to say something before he looked away. It was a look Keisuke had come to know very well. Akira was never good with words. He never deemed any need to be friendly with anyone else, he never thought he was capable of understanding another person simply because everyone was unique of their own. It was a part of Akira that Keisuke had come to admire, then love. But it wouldn’t work in their situation now. Akira was his partner, and he was Akira’s, if they never talked, they probably would face problems that never had existed in the first place.

“Akira,” Keisuke called out. His hand left Akira’s head, whisking featherlight touches against Akira’s back, tracing playful motions on along his collarbone.

Was Akira always so small? he wondered. He’d always been chasing after Akira’s back, staring at how far he was from where he was standing, and how much it’d take for him to be able to reach where Akira was now. He’d never noticed how he could wrap the whole of Akira’s body in his arms, feeling his warmth in such fervent way that he’d need to take a deep breath to remind himself that this was the reality he wanted to be indulged in. Akira shivered just ever so slightly under his touch, but he didn’t push him away. His eyes were closed, his breathing soothing. But Keisuke was the opposite. His heartbeats thumped insanely against his own chest, tension heightened within him, and before he knew it, he sat up, supporting Akira up at the same time and came face to face with him.

“I’m sorry,” Keisuke said. He scraped a finger against Akira’s cheekbone, chortling at the small frown Akira was wearing on his face now, a clear indication of embarrassment. Akira probably never noticed it himself. He’d always claimed that whatever expression he was to wear on his face was merely a default reaction of his that he couldn’t control. But Keisuke loved them -- his face when he was all deadpanned, when he was irritated, when he was _smiling_ \-- he loved all the gestures Akira had shown him, and he loved them _more_ when he came to notice traits that he had never seen before.

“What are you apologizing for?” Akira asked with a scowl.

“For always being like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” With that, Keisuke slanted forward, capturing Akira in a surprise kiss. He brushed his lips against Akira’s, his hands gripping hard on Akira’s waist, balancing him on his lap as he continued pressing his mouth against Akira’s slightly open one.

Unlike the first few times they’d kissed, Akira no longer pushed him away. He was still a tad hesitant when he felt Keisuke’s weight on him. But eventually, he relaxed, leaning his body against Keisuke and allowing Keisuke to guide their movements.

Their lovemaking was always slow; the memories from the past still a painful trauma to them. But across time, they’d come to realize that nothing was able to hurt them anymore.

Not physically, not emotionally, not spiritually.

 _Nothing_.

They’d come to accept each other for who they were, they’d come to understand each other’s weaknesses and strengths as if they were their own, and they’d come to understand that sometimes actions worked better than words, and sometimes, words worked better than any body language they ever wanted to present to each other.

And now, when words were lost between them, they realized how their bodies had come to a synchronized rhythm, agreeing that they no longer needed the same words to tell each other what they really wanted now.

Assurance; absolute trust that their bodies would be able to conform with each other.

Never in his life would he imagine himself to embrace Akira in this.. Never would he ever imagine himself to be able to call Keisuke his partner. When Akira did just as much as pushing himself harder towards Keisuke, an unknown arousal blossomed from within him, urging him to respond with heat equally fierce as Akira before he found his hand slipping under Akira’s shirt, already yearning to feel Akira’s bare skin with his naked hand.

Akira released what sounded like a restrained moan, but Keisuke was at his limit. His hands reached to Akira’s protruded nipples, fondling them nimbly on the tips, pinching every now and then and feeling Akira going limp in his arms. Akira was strong, he’d been the person Keisuke looked up to for the longest time now. But when they were to share intimacy like this, he came to notice how _fragile_ Akira seemed to be, as if one brutal motion was more than enough to crush Akira’s existence into nothingness. Self-restraint was hard, but made harder when his opponent was Akira, who was ready to submit his body, alongside his soul to him.

“Akira,” he called out in the midst of heated breathing. “Can I--”

Akira had lurched towards him before he could finish his words, snatching his breath away and pushing his own tongue into his mouth.

Acting our of sheer impulse, he speedily discarded both of their clothing, with Akira still clinging onto him, and hitched a breath when their dicks touched. They were both acutely aroused, and none of them knew exactly what had triggered it. All they knew was that there was this intense heat burning them from the inside and they were in desperate need to release it out on each other before they combusted them from the inside.

“Akira,” Keisuke panted, spelling Akira’s name like a chant. “Akira, Akira, Akira.”

“Ugh.” A low growl resounded from Akira when Keisuke had his hands on their dicks, pumping them together, pushing them towards a limit they both yearned for. They were both slicked with sweat, Keisuke’s big palm damped with his own and Akira’s body liquid, making the friction almost next to nothing.

“Kei… suke,” Akira heaved. Burying his head against Keisuke’s chest, he muted his voice, biting Keisuke on the shoulder blade when Keisuke rubbed his thumb against his slit, almost making him come then and there.

“E-enough…” Akira struggled. His voice was hoarse, he could hardly breathe, but the pressure from his lower body was a torture he’d been suffering long enough and he wanted nothing but to be tormented hard enough to be released from this very addictive sensation he was feeling now.

No one but Keisuke could make him feel this way. And he wanted no one else but Keisuke to be able to bring him over the edge of his desire.

He placed his hand on Keisuke’s, pushing it aside with slight strength, then rubbing both of their dicks again with a few dainty gestures before he lifted himself up with his knees, hand still on Keisuke’s dick, and guiding it to his hole.

“W-wait!” Keisuke exclaimed. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Akira clicked his tongue. Sure, he remembered how painful it was when he was being forced into; the skin-splitting pain was more than enough to send flare into his head, more than enough to wipe his conscious off. He remembered the foreign material cutting his skin open, how _burning_ hot it was when his wounds were slitted open, when he felt as if his body was being split into two.

He remembered every one of those dreadful sensations like it was yesterday. And when Keisuke provoked that memory out of him now, he shuddered out of reflex before he felt Keisuke’s lips on his cheek, giving it tender touches, clearly comforting him.

“I’ll not hurt you anymore,” Keisuke whispered under his breath. “Never again.”

The profound regrets in Keisuke’s tone was something Akira was already more than familiar with. Thanks to their unpleasant experiences, Keisuke seemed to have taken everything on himself, in a way Akira never wanted him to. He had his own self-blame period, and it took huge ounce of scolding and reminding from Akira to have Keisuke picking himself back up again. But even so, when the reality was dawned upon them in such an eloquent way once again, he realized that they needed more time than they thought to be able to truly get over everything that had happened in the past.

This was the reality they needed to face, and they shouldn’t fear, for none of them would hurt each other ever again.

“Come here,” Keisuke smiled, his voice so gentle it helped soothe the seething tension buried deep within Akira’s chest. Soon enough, he felt Keisuke’s fingers pressing against his hole, cold substances unlike any hard materials he’d experienced before slipping their way into his body. He gritted his teeth, fingers clawing into Keisuke’s broad shoulders then releasing his breath when Keisuke pulled his fingers out, just to feel the same sensation again when Keisuke pushed them in again.

And again.

And again.

“Akira…”

Keisuke’s voice sounded like a remedying melody by his ear. With his eyes closed, he tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his body and, focusing on Keisuke’s voice instead. He loved the way Keisuke called his name; it sounded so bright, so filled with hope, so… loving.

It took a few more thrusts for him to get used to Keisuke’s touch. Then, something harder and hotter replaced the initially cold substance against his hole. He clasped his eyes closed, holding his breath, already knowing what was bound to come next. And upon feeling Keisuke’s hot mass spreading him from the inside, hoarse moans leaked from his mouth, he tilted his head high to sustain the heavy pressure, waiting for Keisuke to push all the way in, hoping that it’d end soon. His waist moved on its own accord, pushing down while Keisuke pushed up, and it was when Keisuke was fully seated in him that they released a relieved sigh.

“Akira…” It’s Keisuke’s voice again, the gentle, soothing voice that’d been comforting for the entire time now.

He opened his eyes, meeting Keisuke’s soft gaze at first view.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Keisuke was asking too many questions and he clearly knew it himself. Because in the next minute, he smiled bitterly, hugging Akira close to his chest before he sighed quietly into his shoulder.

“It feels so good in you,” Keisuke said. Akira was the same, but there was no way he could tell Keisuke right in the face, so instead, he pulled himself up, applying weight back down to Keisuke's dick, just so he could tell Keisuke that he was more than fine now, that Keisuke did not need to be so overly concerned with him anymore.

Keisuke obviously got the message because, in the next second, his hands around Akira’s torso clamped tighter than before as he supported Akira’s movement, helping him to move the smoothest way he could afford. For a long time, all that they could hear in the room was the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, their low grunting came in waves, their motions raw, their desire aroused. There was no longer pain, no longer the fearful what-ifs that’d always come to Akira’s mind whenever he was to share his body with Keisuke. Now, he was in the hands of a man he could wholly trust, a man who’d sworn his lifelong loyalty to him, and a man whom he knew would rather risk his life than hurting him.

“Akira,” Keisuke mumbled, sending instant chills down Akira’s spine. “Does it feel good?”

His dick twitched in response, his insides clasped harder against Keisuke’s dick. He was feeling good, more than good. At one point in time, he completely lost himself, drowning in the pleasurable sensation of friction rubbing against his insides. He’d never felt _so intoxicating_ except when he was fighting as Lost, when he was so hot-headed that nothing else mattered but to release this agonizing feelings within him. But now, it’s no fight; his only opponent being Keisuke, there was no need to compete for anything at all.

The only thing he needed to concentrate was to drive them to the best completion they could ever get.

“Faster…” he mumbled, voice so low Keisuke almost missed it.

“Hmm?”

“...faster,” he repeated. Keisuke had been hitting him on his sensitive spots for a while now and he couldn’t tell when he would lose himself completely, being taken over by the wave of pleasure. He fixed his gaze on Keisuke, refused to look away. He wanted to take in everything he could. He wanted to be sure that Keisuke was truly happy with him, that he no longer thought of himself as a level below Akira, or even a burden.

Keisuke smiled, a smile that took all the breath out of Akira. He must have read his mind, otherwise, he wouldn’t be pumping on Akira’s dick now, precum trickling all over their bodies, mingling with their sweat and adding to the eroticness of their sweet moans. He was urging Akira on, pushing him to the point of no return, and with just one squeeze on the head of his dick, Akira came, bubbled moans slipped from his lips as he pressed his mouth against Keisuke’s shoulder, feeling warm liquid feeling him from the inside the same time when he clenched hard on Keisuke’s dick.

Their lovemaking wasn’t the perfect one their impression had always told them. Their lovemaking was slightly awkward, inexperienced, and all that they ever did was listening to the instinct of their bodies, conforming to the deepest, buried desire they never knew they had. At the end of the day, they realized that consideration wasn’t too much of a concern after all. Their bodies knew the answer for them.

And while they cuddled each other to sleep, submerged in the midst of afterglow and completely surrendering their mind and body to the sweet temptation of sleep, they knew that it’s been like this for them after all -- for they had been together for the longest time ever, and would always be together for the longest time to come.

 

* * *

 

 

He could barely feel his body the next day. It was freezing cold when he woke, his body completely numb, all that was in his head was a thin layer of mist that had him wondering if he’d just died in his sleep and gone to Heaven. But the weight and the warmth that he felt the next second had him shuddering out of reflex, blinking a few times just to see Keisuke smiling brightly at him. He felt a delicate touch on his bangs, swept to a side, and a tender kiss against his forehead, bringing him back from the realm of dream.

“Good morning.”

A few years back, he’d never be surprised if morning never came. Being able to wake up like this, greeting an existence that was a personification of the sun, was something he’d never dare to ask for.

But this was the reality he was living in now, and also the reality that he wanted to protect.

He pulled himself up with great difficulty, having Keisuke to support him and wincing at the soreness on his lower half that had Keisuke apologizing bitterly at him.

He couldn’t remember exactly what happened yesterday but he was certain that they’d shared their bodies,  the warmth that’d spread between them had helped him greatly in countering the unbearable cold he had to face now.

As he sat on the dining table, he rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air into his palms while he waited for Keisuke to be done with breakfast. He’d wanted to wake up earlier to be the one making the meal instead, but of course, with his current condition, it wasn’t something his physical state would like to oblige to.

“Sorry for the wait.”

Keisuke came towards the table with two plates of what seemed like bread and eggs. He placed one in front of Akira, and another one opposite him, then sitting down just to glance at Akira.

“What’s the matter?” Akira grimaced, already picking up the cutlery, all ready to dig in.

“Are you okay, Akira?” Keisuke asked, his food discarded.

“Fine,” Akira said simply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Akira snapped. “It’s not your fault. Eat, say nothing.”

He could see Keisuke smiling awkwardly from the corner of his eyes as he munched on his bread. He still needed time, and more reprimands, to finally understand that Akira was no way angry at him over matters like this.

When they prepared to head out, Keisuke rushed into the room, coming out with the same scarf he’d wrapped around Akira’s neck the previous day.

“It’s pretty cold today,” he said with a wide grin. “Be careful not to catch a cold.”

Akira merely stared at him. Then, without a word, he walked into their bedroom, coming out with the bag of item he purchased from the shop downtown yesterday.

“Akira?”

Akira ignored him. He put the bag down, pulled the item out and spread the orange cloth open, all the while ignoring Keisuke’s wide-eyed stare.

“Akira, this is…”

“It’s cold,” Akira said. “Be careful not to catch a cold.”

It was merely a repeat of what Keisuke had said, but yet, when he was the one to say it, it felt as if he was spelling something that was like a curse, or a taboo. The words felt heavy, creating pressure on his chest and causing his heartbeats to pick up speed. It was when he felt Keisuke’s warm hands against his own that he looked up, surprised to see that Keisuke was smiling gently at him, his eyes gleamed with words that Akira had no idea of.

“Akira… is this for me?” Keisuke asked.

Akira scowled. _Of course_ it’s for him, why does Keisuke have to ask?

As if noticing the difficulties Akira was facing, Keisuke grinned wider, grasping Akira’s hands harder as he said,

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Akira mumbled. It’s _everything_ to them, and Akira knew it. “Let me wear it for you.”

“E-eh?”

It’s hard to look Keisuke in the eyes. Even when he was wrapping the thick scarf around Keisuke’s neck, he averted their gaze, trying as hard as he could to act normal, as if nothing of his actions nor Keisuke’s had affected him at all.

“Akira,” Keisuke called out. He should say something, maybe urging them to go, or just… anything. But Keisuke had hugged him tight in his embrace in the next second, chasing every other intention for him to make his move aside.

“Did you go all the way to think of what to do for me?”

Why does Keisuke have to be right? How does Keisuke know everything he’s thinking?

How does Keisuke do it?

And why can’t he be like him? Why can’t he tell what Keisuke was thinking now?

How does this whole relationship thing work?

“You don’t need to do anything at all, Akira,” Keisuke continued. He nuzzled their cheeks, ending with a firm kiss against Akira’s forehead. “Akira just needs to be who you are, that’s more than enough.”

He didn’t know how much he could trust Keisuke’s words. He didn’t know if it’s really fine for him to do nothing at all.

He didn’t know how this whole relationship thing works.

But perhaps… all he needed to know was that Keisuke was by his side now, alive, and very much happy.

Nothing between them had changed, after all. And nothing will ever change.

No matter how hard their pasts had once tried to change them.

 

 


End file.
